Et Ainsi Nous Allons
by Hikari the Soulweaver
Summary: A year has passed. A plague has hit Clow Country. Sakura believes that one of the remaining feathers can cure everyone. Meanwhile, Erik has found a feather and is using its power, but not for evil. His decision will decide the fate of all of Clow Country.
1. The Journey Begins

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing! Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles is owned by the wonderment that is CLAMP, and Phantom of the Opera is owned by Leroux, Kay, Webber, and anyone else who had a hand in making Phantom what it is today. The only thing I own in this is the plot, and even that is just me playing around to satisfy my own fangirl-ish tendencies.

And now, let the story begin! Hope you like it!

* * *

_**Et Ainsi Nous Allons**_

Chapter 1

The Journey Begins

**Earth. Paris, France. 1872**

His hands came crashing down on the keys in frustration, sending a dissonant cacophony of clashing notes echoing through the air. Head in his hands, he sighed. Everything, it seemed, was going wrong. The opera had burned to the ground two years ago and no one wanted to rebuild it. Something about insufficient funding. Insufficient intelligence, more likely. Months ago, the chief of police had ordered a squad of his men to comb the sewers for nights on end in the vain and severely misguided hope that he would be stupid enough to venture outside his home. However, they were little more than a mild irritation. The Cretin Brigade, he called them. Thick, brainless louts, the lot of them. Didn't they know that the great Erik could never…

Erik's internal rant came to a skidding halt. A song, unlike anything he had ever heard, sounded through the otherwise stagnant air. No, it seemed as though it was within him, not without. Haunting and beautiful, the mere sound of it broke his heart, stirring long-repressed memories that had taken him years to forget. He felt a faint tugging on his mind, as if the music was trying to lead him somewhere. Like a blinded fool, he followed the sound.

_Is this what it is like?_ A small part of his brain murmured. He had often wondered how it would feel to be controlled in such a way, to lose his own free will to a beautiful, haunting melody. The rest of his mind shoved such thoughts out of existence. _Nothing could compare to my music,_ he repeated to himself. But no matter how many times he insisted upon his superiority, there was a part of him that acknowledged this music was far lovelier, far purer. It was unlike anything he could have ever created, and though he didn't want to admit it, he was jealous of its beauty.

He stopped when he came to the edge of the lake. Everything beyond the sphere of candlelight was empty darkness; every time he looked into the void, he couldn't help but feel as though the way out, the way into the outside world, was the very mouth of hell itself.

He gasped. A light, little more than a faint glow, appeared beneath the surface of the lake. It grew brighter and brighter as it rose from the depths. When it broke through the water, he finally realized the source of the music: a feather, purest white save for the delicate design etched into it. Tiny droplets, not unlike tears, slid down the feather's frame, causing ripples in the lake as they fell, one by one, into the water.

The music grew louder as the feather began floating towards him. Time seemed to slow; the many tiny candle flames behind him dimmed as the feather's glow swallowed their yellow light. The feather continued its approach, drawn to him as though by an invisible magnet, and he just stood there, spellbound, like some grotesque caricature of a deer caught in the headlights, watching it draw closer. And closer. He could have reached out and grabbed it if he had wanted to.

And then it touched him. It penetrated his chest as easily as a hot knife through butter. It didn't hurt, though he had suspected it would, but it felt strange, as though his entire body had turned to liquid. The music still sounded, but this time from within him, humming in his spinal cord and making his brain vibrate in his skull. It wasn't unpleasant, but he didn't know if it was an experience for which he would volunteer in the future.

Despite his misgivings of the sensations, they left an almost euphoria roiling in his mind, filling him with an unfamiliar warm happiness. Erik felt himself collapse as the absolute bliss filled his entire body. Sleep took him gently, shrouding his head like a lover's embrace.

He dreamed. At least, Erik assumed that it was dream, though it felt more like a memory. If it was a memory, it must have happened a long time ago, because the edges of the dream were blurred, and many parts of it were difficult to decipher. The deeper he went into the dream, the hazier it got, as if the memory was fading…

_"Come on!" a little girl shouted. Her excited laughter filled the cavernous hallway as she ran. Every so often, she would look back, as if expecting someone to follow._

_"I want to show you something!" She came to a stop in front of a doorway that led onto a balcony. _

_"Look!" She ran to the railing at the edge of the balcony, pointing to something in the distance. Ruins sat on the edge of the horizon, silhouetted against the setting sun. They looked like an angel's wings spread full span, as if they were bidding the waning sun farewell._

_"Isn't it beautiful?" The little girl stared out at the horizon, her large, jade green eyes drinking in the expanse. She couldn't have been more than eight or nine years old. Looking over to her right, she smiled as if there was someone with her, yet she was entirely alone. _

_"I'm happy that I can share this with you…"_

Erik opened his eyes as the memory faded. He envied that little girl, whoever she was. So blissfully unaware of the world's cruelties . . .

Sitting up, he found that he had collapsed at the edge of the lake. Many of the candles behind him were smoking, yet their flickering flames had been snuffed out of existence. However, those that were still lit were enough to light his way back to his home.

A gentle warmth pulsed lightly in his chest. _The feather._ Such a thing should not be possible. It shouldn't even exist, yet there it was, humming gently just beneath his heart.

Erik frowned, and then his thoughts came to a skidding halt for the second time in less than an hour. How could it be that the mask was suddenly so uncomfortable? He undid the cord that held it to his face and examined the firm white material. No change. It was exactly the same as it had been for years. If it wasn't his mask, then it could only be…

He ran to the nearest mirror, yanked the curtain covering it to the side, and stumbled backwards in disbelief.

* * *

**Clow. Approximately one year after Sakura-hime's return.**

"What happened here?" Syaoran murmured to himself. Even from a distance, he could see that Clow Country was not as he had left it. A think column of black smoke rose from behind the city; it seemed to be attempting to fill the sky and blot out the sun. The air was perfectly still.

Stagnant.

"It feels like death," Kurogane muttered, echoing Syaoran's thoughts. "And there's been a lot of it."

"Well," Fai sighed, "Perhaps Sakura-chan will be able to fill us in."

Once inside the city, Syaoran had to keep from grimacing for things were worse than they had initially appeared. The streets were deserted. Were it not for the echoing infant's cry from inside one of the houses, he would have thought that they were back in the illusion constructed in Rekord Country to stop them from stealing the Book of Memories. Syaoran's recollection was hazy – he had seen it through his clone's eyes rather than his own – but it was clear enough to evoke an awful sense of déjà vu as he walked through the abandoned streets.

Again and again they passed door after door with large X's. Many were painted blood red, and yet many others had black X's painted over the red.

"I wonder what they mean." Mokona pondered.

She hopped onto a windowsill and peered inside the abode. The door next to the window was painted with black. "It's empty."

"You won't find anyone there," a voice croaked.

Syaoran looked up to see a man handling a cart full of what, at first glance, appeared to be mounds of clothing. The door behind the man, painted with a red X, opened, revealing a second man carrying what looked like a large, ugly doll. The second man placed the doll on the cart, and Syaoran realized that the cart was full of, not bundles, but corpses. At least a dozen of them.

And the doll was the emaciated remains of a child.

"Why?" Syaoran asked, though he felt he already knew the answer.

The second man chuckled darkly, his voice sleazy and oily. "Cause they's all dead, those thats got the black marks on they doors." He laughed again as he picked a brush up out of a bucket that hung from the side of the cart, running it over the door's red mark. When he was finished, a wet black X bleakly reflected the cloudless blue sky.

"Is the princess still alive?" Syaoran asked. The first man growled, refusing to meet his eye.

"How the hell should I know? I'm in charge of clearing the dead, not chasing after royalty."

The second man replaced the brush in the bucket of black paint and gave a disconcerting smile at Fai. "This ones a pretty fellow, ain't he boss?" The first man rolled his eyes.

"I think he's trying to ask if you have taken away any dead from the palace," Fai clarified, ignoring the second man as his eyes fell unconsciously on the corpse-child in the cart.

"Of course, pretty. None of them looked real royal-like, ya' know, but no one looks likes they oughts to, once they're dead." The second man answered. He was far friendlier than his compatriot, if less articulate. His eyes continued to rove over Fai's form; he seemed to be encouraged by the mage's obvious discomfort at being examined in such a way.

Neither of the two men said any more as they took hold of one end of their cart and moved on, but the second man slipped another glance to Fai, making the latter shudder.

As the cart trundled away, Syaoran fixed his eyes to the ground. It was starting to hit that Sakura might have died along with most of her city.

_No,_ he thought, shaking his head. _Sakura isn't dead. I won't let her be._ He started walking in the direction of the palace, keeping his eyes trained on his boots, all the while letting his feet choose the path they took to get there.

* * *

"Are you sure there is nothing you can do?" Sakura sat at her brother's side, eyes downcast. She couldn't bear to look into her brother's face and she was too afraid to look the doctor in the eye. To do either would threaten to bring back the ever looming tears. She had cried enough in the past weeks.

"I'm afraid not, Hime," the doctor replied. He stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do. "This plague has attacked most of the city, and we ran out of the necessary medicines two months ago. With the quarantine, we can't afford to bring in any more for danger of pandemic."

Sakura shut her eyes, frustrated. "Thank you, anyway." Her voice was soft, but there was strength nonetheless. "If there is nothing you can do, then please leave. Perhaps there is someone you can help elsewhere." The doctor bowed out of the room.

"Sakura." She took her brother's thin hand. It had become little more than skin stretched over bones. His voice was reduced to a harsh rasp of a whisper. She forced herself to look into Touya's face. It was difficult to remind herself that this shrunken corpse with sunken eyes and waxy, pale skin was her brother; the dull, broken light in his black eyes betrayed his fading hope. "Has Yukito managed to find a cure?"

"No," Sakura replied. "Nothing he's tried has worked. Not even a little. No one he has managed to contact has any idea, either."

Touya shut his eyes and sighed. "I suppose it was just wishful thinking. But, I imagine I will be grateful for death… once it comes…"

"No!" Sakura cried, releasing her brother's hand and flying to her feet. "You won't die! If Yukito-san can't find a cure then… Then I will!"

"Sakura-" Touya painfully pushed himself onto his elbows.

"No!" she said again. "You can't give up hope. I won't let you." She shut her eyes against the tears that were creeping down her face. "If you die, I'll have no one left in this world."

She laid her head on his lap and wept. It was like they were children again: Sakura crying into her brother's clothes and Touya stroking his little sister's hair as he waited for her tears to cease.

A loud rap at the door made Sakura jump.

"Come in," she said, wiping the last of the tears away with her already salt-water-soaked sleeve.

A guard, one the last half-dozen or so that were still unaffected by the plague, entered. "Princess, there are three young men at the gate. They claim you are expecting them, but their attire suggests they are not from Clow Country."

_Three young men? Oh Kami, please. Please! _Sakura kept her back to the guard. "Did they give their names?"

"Yes. One of them said his name was Syaoran-"

"Let them in," Sakura interrupted. "I have to speak with them." The guard bowed to her and closed the door behind him.

_Syaoran… _

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

'Ello!

Ok, so I have long been a fan of Phantom of the Opera, and I just got into Tsubasa a while ago, due to the influence of one of my friends. She is, or in this case, _was_, known as **Drifting One **here. Unfortunately, she has made the decision to give up fanfiction. Forever. I was quite saddened when she told me that, as this story was actually her idea. So, I have taken the liberty of continuing, and hopefully completing, this story.

As this chapter was written before she made that decision, it was co-written by her, but with the way things are looking, it will be the ONLY chapter where she has any real influence. Some of her ideas that she mentioned to me earlier may be used, but other than that, this story is all me.

I don't think I need to say more on that subject.

Anywho… Just a couple things I ought to mention:

I shall be referring to Mokona as "she." I am well aware that Mokona (both black and white varieties) are genderless, but I find that it is much easier for me to pick a gender and stick with it. "It" just seems cruel, seeing as Mokona doesn't really seem much like a thing, despite Kurogane constantly referring to her as "white manju" (that's "white meat bun" for those of you who don't know).

Also, I will not be listing any pairings prior to their appearance. I feel that it would be too much of a spoiler to list them beforehand, plus the whole pairing ordeal is just going to be too complex to think about before I actually get to them in the plot. So, you'll just have to wait and find out! To tell the truth, I don't even know where this story is going to go. I mean, I have a general idea, but who knows? It might take a completely different turn than what I have in mind right now.

And on the subject of honorifics and titles…

When this chapter was first written, I had decided to forgo the usual Japanese honorifics and simply provide the English equivalents, and they are easier to follow in many cases, and I find them easier to write. However, I feel that something was lost in ignoring those honorifics, so I added them to this chapter, and they shall be present in this story from now on.

_Siahae_, fair readers! Please review for me!

_… Siahae _means "farewell," by the way. Anyway, until the next chapter!


	2. Setting the Stage

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing! Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles is owned by the wonderment that is CLAMP, and Phantom of the Opera is owned by Leroux, Kay, Webber, and anyone else who had a hand in making Phantom what it is today. The only thing I own in this is the plot, and even that is just me playing around to satisfy my own fangirl-ish tendencies.

On with the story!

* * *

_**Et Ainsi Nous Allons**_

Chapter 2

Setting the Stage

**Earth. Daidouji Estate, Japan. 1874**

Erik stood before the gate of what had once been a very beautiful estate. It had, however, recently fallen into a state of disrepair and neglect. A pity, really. No doubt it had been immaculate in years past. Even so, the small section of the estate grounds that he could see was beautiful in a wild, unkempt way.

He frowned. Would no one answer? Scowling, he reached up and rang the bronze bell that hung next to the gate for the second time in ten minutes. Whoever lived there was undoubtedly pretending not to be home. However, there was no fooling Erik; he had witnessed the owner of the estate walking the grounds less than half an hour before.

Still no answer. Infuriated, Erik rang the bell for a third time.

"Alright! Alright!" someone shouted in Japanese on the other side of the gate. A man walked up to the gate in a huff, a look of mild annoyance on his face. "What do you want?" the man asked.

"Good afternoon," Erik replied in faultless Japanese. He had been in Japan for about a month now, and had already picked up the language with ease. "I wish to inquire after the master of this estate."

The man, whom Erik assumed to be a butler of sorts, replied "And may I ask why?"

"That would be between him and myself," Erik replied coolly. The man frowned, but opened the gate and stood aside to allow Erik through. "Thank you." The man led Erik down a long, slightly overgrown cobblestone path to the large house at the center of the grounds. Once inside, Erik left his shoes just inside the entryway in accordance to the local customs and followed the man into a small anteroom.

"Wait here, please." Without another word, the man left the room, leaving Erik entirely alone. He stood perfectly still, listening to the various sounds coming from the rest of the house. He could hear muffled voices, both of them male, coming from somewhere a few rooms away. While there clearly wasn't a single room in the place that was not the least bit sound-proof, Erik wasn't able to make out what they were saying.

After a few minutes, the man from the gate reentered the room.

"Daidouji-sama will see you now," he said. "This way." Erik was led to a larger room in a different corner of the house. It struck him as to just how empty the place was. A second man was there, most likely the other voice he had heard. This man, whom Erik assumed to be the owner of the estate, appeared to be in his mid-forties, though the large amount of grey in his hair made him look at least ten years older.

"Good afternoon to you, sir," Erik said, bowing to the second man. It went against the grain to be so polite to anyone, least of all this sorry-looking man, but Erik felt as though everything depended on how this meeting went. Daidouji said nothing, but merely gazed wearily up at Erik.

"What is it that you could possibly want?" Daidouji said, not bothering to keep the irritated edge out of his voice. "I have nothing left! Whatever it is that you want, you might as well just take it! Take it like all the rest!"

"I have no interest in taking anything from you," Erik said, perfectly calm. "At least…" Daidouji relaxed, then stiffened. "Not without payment." Daidouji looked up at him with suspicious interest.

"Payment?" There it was. Erik had had a feeling that greed would play a large part in the transaction. After all, it was one of the greatest driving forces of human nature. "How much payment?"

Erik allowed himself a small smile. "That all depends on how willing you are to give up what I ask for." Daidouji blanched but quickly regained his composure.

"What are you asking?" he asked, his eyes narrowed to slits as he looked at Erik with suspicion.

"I wish to-" Erik was interrupted when the door to the room opened, revealing a beautiful dark-eyed girl of about seventeen. She carried a tray with a simple porcelain teapot and matching cups. She set the tray down on the low table, bowed to both men, and walked out, closing the slider quietly behind her.

"My daughter," Daidouji said absentmindedly, picking up a cup of tea. "You were saying… What did you say your name was?"

Erik ignored the question. "I wish to, if possible, _buy _your daughter from you. As I said before, there will be payment, and I can assure you that she will be treated well."

"Why would you possibly want my daughter? She is entirely unremarkable. Completely unlike either of her older sisters. I do not think she will ever attract a husband, especially with the losses my family has suffered. She has no dowry, and I cannot think of a respectable man in the world that would accept her without one."

"That is where you are wrong," Erik said with another small smile. "You see, I am working to open an opera house in the west, and I have been traveling to many countries for the past year in search of only the best. I believe that your daughter is exactly what I am looking for.

"Three days ago, I was walking past this estate when I heard the most beautiful singing voice I have heard in several years. I looked over the wall to find that it was your daughter who was singing, and I must say that she would be ideal for what I have in mind."

Daidouji looked speechless. In fact, his mouth hung slightly agape. He could not believe his ears. A wealthy, foreign stranger wanted to take his daughter away, and pay for her, too! A large part of him was screaming to reject the offer - she was his youngest daughter, after all - but an equally large part was enticed by the thought of enough money to put his life, and his social status, back to where it ought to be. "How- how much money are you offering?"

Erik's smile widened ever so slightly. Greed could be such a wonderful thing in the right situation… Reaching into a hidden pocket in his cloak, Erik pulled out a bag of coins and dropped it onto the table next to the tea tray. It landed with a loud thud and much jangling of metal. Daidouji's jaw dropped and his eyes grew wide.

"I trust you will find this amount acceptable," Erik said. Daidouji reached a tentative hand into the bag, almost as if he couldn't believe that the money was actually real.

"Y- yes," he stammered, still staring enamored at the gleaming contents of the bag.

"Then I have your permission to take your daughter with me?" Daidouji looked up at Erik again.

"I have your word that she will be cared for? She will not be harmed?"

Erik nodded. "She shall be treated as though she were the princess of all of Japan."

After a moment, Daidouji to called the man from the gate. "Tell my daughter that she is to pack whatever possessions she has left. She is to be leaving with this man immediately."

"Yes, sir."

Daidouji sighed in what suspiciously sounded like relief. "You understand, sir," he said to Erik, his eyes half closed. No doubt he was already imagining the things he could do with the large amount of gold in the table in front of him. "That my life has, up until now, been in complete shambles. I made one bad deal, and I lost practically everything. It has been all I can do to support myself and my daughter. Thanks to you, I can set everything right."

At that moment, the same beautiful, black-haired girl rushed into the room and flung herself onto her father.

"Chichi-ue, please don't send me away! I don't want to!" She sobbed into her father's shoulder. He patted her back as if she were a small child.

"It's alright," he said. "This man heard you singing, and he wants to take you with him. He shall provide you with the best." The girl sobbed harder. "And it won't be forever. Just for a little while. As soon as everything is put back in order, I will send for you." He unwound her arms from his neck and lifted her chin so she looked him in the eye. "I promise." She wrapped her arms around his neck once more, and Erik gazed at them with jealousy and longing. If only to have a caring parent, but alas, both of his parents were long dead.

"Promise me you with go with this man?" The girl nodded before turning her eyes onto Erik. She had beautiful eyes: a strange shade of deep blue. The master tilted his head towards Erik, indicating that the girl should go. A new wave of tears poured out of the girl's eyes, but she played the role of the obedient daughter and walked over to Erik, head bowed and eyes nearly closed in an effort to stop the flow of tears.

Erik held out his hand for the girl to take, but she simply walked out the door without a glance in his direction. He followed her.

The girl was waiting for him outside the gate, one small bag sitting at her feet. Still she did not look at him, even when he came up behind her and the gate clanged shut.

"What is your name?" Erik asked, unconsciously slipping into the same gentle tone of voice he often had reserved for Christine.

He could almost hear her clenching her jaw. She kept her eyes trained on her shoes, and remained silent. For a moment, Erik was sure that she would not answer until he heard her speak so softly that it was hard to hear her.

"Tomoyo."

* * *

**Clow**

"Syaoran!" Sakura rushed into Syaoran's arms, a smile on her face for the first time in months. For a moment, neither of them said a word; both were too absorbed in each other's company to say anything. They would have stayed like that forever were it not for Kurogane's not-so-subtle throat-clearing a few feet away. The two teenagers broke apart, color spreading across both of their faces. "It's good to see you again," Sakura said, looking at each of her friends in turn.

"Sakura," Syaoran began. "What has happened here?" Sakura's face fell back into the melancholy expression that had become the norm for her in the past months.

"Come inside," she said in a flat voice. "The sun is going down; it's best not to be outside after dark."

Sakura led them through the main hall, and from there into a secondary hallway. Most of the lamps along the walls were dark, and it seemed that the place was deserted. Reaching up, she pulled one of the lamps out of its sconce and used it to light their way along the hall.

"In here," Sakura said, indicating a door at the end of the hall. She opened the door, revealing the dusty remains of a library. What was left of the books were scattered over the dirty floor and more than one of the shelves were on their sides. A thick layer of dust lay over everything, marred by the crisscrossing trails of footprints. Even those prints looked like they had been there for a long time.

Sakura walked through the disarray without a backward glance, until she got to the very back of the library. The entire back wall consisted entirely of windows, and every one of them was masked by heavy curtains. Between two windows was a blackened fireplace. At one point, chairs might have surrounded it, but all that remained of them were a few sad piles of splintered wood and torn, mildewing cushions. Sakura knelt down with the lamp and used it to light the pile of charred wood in the fireplace.

"Sit down, please," Sakura said quietly. "I know the chairs are broken, but the floor isn't too hard."

"Seems we were gone longer than we thought," Kurogane muttered. He leaned with his back against one of the bookcases that remained standing. Fai settled for the floor; dust instantly began collecting in his coat the moment he sat down.

"How long have we been gone?" the wizard asked, flicking away a piece of cushion filling that had apparently decided to float around when he had sat down.

"About a year," Sakura replied. "Things have been like this for a bit more than half that."

"What happened?" Syaoran repeated, sitting down so he was next to the princess.

"Things were fine for a while after you left," Sakura began. "It felt almost as if everything with Fei Wong Reed never happened. But after a few months, people started getting sick. At first, no one thought anything of it; people just thought it would go away the way things like that always do. But it didn't; more people got sick, and those that were sick already started dying. It was worst in the poorer areas of the city; the disease was spreading like wildfire there.

"My brother Touya, the king, ordered that the entire city be quarantined in order to prevent the disease from spreading further. He also ordered every healer, priest, mage, anyone with magical or medical expertise to begin working on a cure for the disease."

"Were they able to help any?" Fai inquired.

Sakura shook her head. "It seemed like anything they did just made things worse. The normal medicines slowed the disease down a little, but it wasn't able to do much before supplies ran out a month ago, and with the quarantine, no one has been able to send for any more.

"In the past ten months," Sakura continued, "people have been dying in droves. I think that before this all started happening, there were almost a hundred thousand people living in this city. Now, if you were to gather everyone in this city together, you'd probably have less than two hundred people all together."

"So few?" Syaoran commented.

Sakura nodded. "Anyone who hasn't gotten sick yet is very lucky. People with magic powers have higher resistance to the disease, and there are a few who are completely immune, but even people who have thought they were immune are starting to get sick."

"Is the king still alive?" Syaoran asked.

Sakura bit her lip. "Barely," she said, tears welling up in her eyes for what felt like the thousandth time in the past week. "Touya got sick a month ago. He can't move, he can barely speak. I don't even recognize him anymore. He's told me so many times already that he's amazed that he's even still breathing." Sakura gave a halfhearted attempt at a laugh, but the only laugh-like sound she could make at that point was something halfway between a sob and a choke. "It's all because of Yukito-san, our priest, that Touya's still alive. But, he can't make him better. It's all he can do to keep my brother alive." Tears were flowing freely down the princess's face. She tried to wipe them away before her friends saw, but she only succeeded in making wet smudges on her cheekbones.

Syaoran reached a hand out to help his princess wipe the tears away. He couldn't help but notice just how much weight she had lost since he had last seen her. She had always been slender, but she was looked like a shadow of her old self.

"There has to be some way we can help," he said, determined to comfort her in any way he could.

"There is," Sakura replied, her voice steadier. "The feathers."

"Feathers?" Kurogane said, frowning. "Didn't we get all of those already?"

Sakura shook her head. "The memories the- the _other _Sakura gave me had one or two pieces missing. It occurred to me a little while before Touya got sick that that means that there are still a few feathers out there somewhere. And just _one _of them would be enough to heal everyone."

Mokona hopped onto Sakura's lap and nuzzled the girl's hand. "Sakura, we'll help you find one!" the little creature assured. "It could take a while, though. All the time we've been gone, we haven't seen anything like another feather, but don't worry! We always seem to end up where and when we need to be whenever we go to different worlds."

Syaoran nodded in agreement.

"Thank you," Sakura said with a small smile, rubbing Mokona's long, floppy ears. Syaoran took her free hand in his and smiled reassuringly. "I should let Touya and Yukito-san know." She stood up, forcing Mokona onto the floor. As she walked towards the library door, she froze. "Come with me?" she asked her friends. Kurogane shrugged, and both Fai and Syaoran nodded and stood to follow.

* * *

"You're really leaving?"

Sakura sat at her brother's bedside, holding one of his skeletal hands. She nodded, trying her hardest to keep from crying.

"How long will you be gone?"

"I don't know," she replied. "As long as it takes to find what I need to make you better. I _know _that I can find it, and I'll come home as soon as I have it."

"You'd better." Touya sighed. "Kami, Sakura, first you leave for months, then you come back without telling me what happened to you, and now it seems like you're leaving again just when I got you back."

"I know," Sakura said, forcing a smile. "You'd better be still alive when I get back."

Touya laughed, but the laugh became a racking cough. "Don't worry," he said when the coughing subsided. "Yukito will keep me alive for you." Touya's gaze fell on the travelers who stood in the doorway. "You going with them?" Sakura nodded. "Good. Now get. The sooner you leave, the sooner you'll be back." Sakura actually laughed at that. At death's door or not, he still had a way of making everything seem alright, even if it was just for a few fleeting moments. "Hey, kid." Syaoran turned upon hearing the king's form of address for him. "You took good care of my sister last time, so I can trust you to take good care of her this time, right?"

Syaoran nodded, feeling that familiar determination settle over him.

_I will protect Sakura, no matter what._

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Ah, 'Ello, peoplez!

Awww, we gotz a little SyaoranxSakura bit in there! They are so cute! (even if it _is _indirect incest… If you've read the entire manga, you know what I mean. If not, be warned: it gets REALLY confusing.)

Aaaaand… (gasp!) We have Tomoyo-hime thrown into the mix on Earth! My purpose for doing so?

…

…

…

Wait for it…

…

…

YOU'LL HAVE TO WAIT TO FIND OUT! HA HA HA! XD

…

Ok, yeah, I'm hyper right now, so it's ok if you find me insane. If you do, then you're right. Sometimes. If you don't, then nice to know there are equally insane people out there.

Alright, so, yeah. One of the pairing things exposed. Can't have a Tsubasa fic without SOME kind of SyaoranxSakura bit. At least, not in my opinion. Have to stick to the canon on some degree.

But will it stay that way…? (pause while the authoress goes all shifty-eyed)

Again, you'll have to wait to find out.

_Siahae, _my most awesome readers!

Until the next chapter!


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